


To Love and To Cherish

by Fanforthefics (StormDancer)



Series: Hockey Tumblr Oneshots [35]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Angst, Communication Solves Problems Kids, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-28 01:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21128237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/pseuds/Fanforthefics
Summary: Jordan is totally handling his emotions about his boyfriends getting married without him. Totally.





	To Love and To Cherish

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tumblr prompt: accidental marriage. Thus displaying that I can write established relationship, as long as it's all angst.

The relationship isn’t exactly new, but it isn’t old, either. 

They’d been feeling things out between the three of them–inching towards something in sideways looks and lingering touches and talks about things that weren’t about it but were–at the end of Taylor’s time in Edmonton, but then Taylor got traded, and that blew everything up for a while. Then, just as that was starting to settle in, when they were back on their three-way Facetimes and texting constantly and all of that, Jordan got traded, and that blew everything up again. 

So in the end, it wasn’t until midway through that season that they’d actually figured it out, gotten the three of them in one place where they could have Talk (Taylor added in the capital, but that was definitely how he heard it in Ebs’ voice, when he’d proposed it) during the All Star Break, where they’d converged on Taylor’s apartment ostensibly for the talk but also, Taylor suspected, because they were skeptical about Taylor’s ability to take care of himself when he was injured. Which, fuck them both, Taylor can totally take care of himself. 

He wasn’t going to say _no_, though, not to Ebs’ fussing, because he’s totally the dad friend even though he likes to deny it, or to Nuge’s concerted efforts to distract him, because no one thinks of cool shit to do like Nuge. And also–they were back together, and with him, and when they’d had the Talk it had ended satisfactorily in Taylor’s slightly-too-small-for-three-hockey-players bed, so. Taylor thinks he won that one. 

And since then it’s been…good. They’ve been figuring it out. They spend most of their time at what feels like the three furthest points on a continent away from each other at any given moment, but they’re getting pretty good at Skype sex (this is where, Taylor suspects, having three people is good; Taylor’s pretty good at dirty talk, if he does say so himself, and Nuge is very into it, which is pretty clear, but Ebs clearly finds it easier to do when it’s a conversation and not a monologue). And they find time–breaks, off-seasons. Whenever Ryan’s in the New York area for any of the teams. 

It works, is what Taylor’s saying. Maybe the logistics aren’t easy, but everything else is, and Ebs and Nuge definitely make Taylor happy. It works. 

Even if Taylor feels like he spends most of his time wanting someone who isn’t there, and wondering if they’ll drift away.

* * *

Jordan wakes up to a full screen of texts from Taylor, Ryan, and their group thread, and four voicemails, all from Nuge. 

He finds it himself to be fond, even if it’s fucking early and a part of him is dreading whatever shit the two of them got up to in Vegas alone. No, he is fond, he corrects–he just…wishes he could have been there. Or not really, because being here means he’s still playing into spring, means that he’s still riding the high of that sweep and prepping for the next round, but. He does wish that the timing worked out so he could be there, instead of having to drag himself out for lunch with Barzy and Beau because somehow, they’ve decided he has insight for them. But...Jordan might not wear a letter, probably won’t ever wear one, but he’s not ditching team, not even for Taylor and Ryan. 

FOMO aside, he’s starting to flip through the texts, which are basically progressively less comprehensible versions of how much fun they’re having and how they wish he was there–Taylor’s demanding, Ryan’s more guilt-inducing for how they don’t demand–when he gets a Facetime call, from Taylor. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, flipping on the camera, “What are you doing up?” It’s early in New York–barely seven, because Jordan’s trying to be an adult or whatever–which makes it obscenely early in Vegas. 

“We haven’t gone to sleep yet!” Taylor cheers. He and Ryan are both in the frame–well, somewhat, the fact that they are both very clearly very drunk is obvious both from how the phone’s tilted kind of nauseatingly and in how flushed Ryan’s cheeks are and the sloppiness of Taylor’s grin. Jordan laughs, and shakes his head. His boys. 

“We went everywhere,” Ryan tells Jordan, very seriously in the way he only gets when smashed. “Every bar. I’ve drunk so much. I don’t think i’ve ever been drunker.” 

“You think?” Jordan asks. He sort of want to record this; he has a feeling that it’s going to be great blackmail material. 

“He’s a lightweight,” Taylor dismisses, kissing Ryan’s temple loudly. Ryan turns into it, tugs Taylor in for a longer kiss. 

Jordan lets it go for a while, because he likes to see that, but, “If we’re going to do that, I need to get my pants off,” he points out, and Taylor pulls away, like he’d just remembered Jordan was there. 

“No! No, we have something to tell you!” 

“It was hysterical,” Ryan says, still so serious despite his now messy hair. “We were at a bar, and there was a chapel with a Gretzky–like an Elvis, but not? So we–” 

“We got married!” Taylor interrupts, loud. He shoves his hand into the camera, so the ring shows. “Look! Nuge, show Ebs.” 

Ryan lifts his hand, so Jordan can see that ring too. They’re horrible rings, gaudy plastic like they aren’t both multimillionaires. 

“You what?” Jordan asks. His hand closes tight around the blankets. 

“We got married,” Ryan repeats, sounding very satisfied. His hand is very high up Taylor’s thigh. “By Gretzky! That’s the hockiest marriage ever.” 

“Nuge saw the chapel and I was like, we should use the Gretzky! Then Nuge was like, we should, though, because he was wearing your old blue Oilers hat and I had a shirt that we got you–oh, we got you a present!–and so we had something old and something borrowed and something blue and so we had to!” Taylor’s grinning too, like it’s the cleverest thing he’s ever heard. They’re really fucking drunk. 

Jordan takes a long, slow breath. “You got married?” He repeats. He keeps on getting stuck on that. 

“Yeah!” Ryan’s hand is getting much higher on Taylor’s thigh still. 

“Did anyone see you?” 

“Gretzky!” 

“No, did–anyone recognize you?” Jordan corrects himself. “Don’t you need a witness or something?” 

“It was the lady at the chapel,” Ryan explains. “They’ve got it all set up.” 

“Yeah I bet they do,” Jordan mutters. “Fuck. Okay. And she didn’t know who you were?” Something occurs to him then. He swallows. “Or–do you not care if people know?” 

“Sure, they can know.” Taylor states, loud and arrogant, and tilts Ryan’s face up to kiss him again. “I love you.” He kisses Ryan again, then, and only then, glances at the screen too. Ryan’s stopped pretending he’s not just groping Taylor. “Everyone should know that.” 

That’s not–they’d talked about it, that they wanted to stay low key, that even if the NHL was ready for someone to come out–which was a debatable point–it definitely wasn’t ready for a polyamorous relationship. But–

“You’re too drunk for this conversation,” Jordan decides. “Call me back when you’re sober.” 

“But Ebs!” Ryan says, his eyebrows drawing together in exaggerated shock. “We’re gonna–you don’t want to wa–” 

“When you’re sober,” Jordan snaps, and hangs up the call. 

Then he takes a few deep breaths, and goes to make himself breakfast.

* * *

This is what Jordan always–not knew, but…felt. Even if he couldn’t say it, wouldn’t say it, because he knows–knew–it was stupid. But. 

But the thing is, he remembers, coming to Edmonton, and how first Taylor, then Nuge, were going to save the Oilers. He remembers watching them wear that. He remembers not wearing it. 

Oh, Jordan’s good, he’s not saying he isn’t, but–he wasn’t one of the first pick darlings, with all the baggage and praise that went with that. And he’s not saying that Taylor or Ryan would base their relationships off of hockey skill, obviously. But it’s…they’re both wearing letters, and solid on their teams, and Jordan’s doing well, but–he has to earn it, in a way it never seems like either of them do. 

Which doesn’t mean anything, really. It doesn’t. Except that he remembers when Nuge came to Edmonton too, how he watched Taylor, with those big admiring eyes. Jordan gets that, obviously, and obviously he understands being drawn to Taylor–it’s not like he stood a chance–but. But.

But Ryan hadn’t been looking at him like that, not until Taylor had already pulled them into their orbit. But Taylor hadn’t been interested in Jordan, not until Ryan had come in and shaken things up. It’s not…Jordan loves them both, and he knows they love him, he does. 

Just. There are things he knows, about the two of them, and about him. 

Things like they got married. 

Jordan knows that they were drunk, or whatever, but that’s–you do things drunk that you wanted to do sober but were too cowardly to do. So apparently when they were drunk, his boyfriends wanted to get married to each other. When he wasn’t there. 

It’s fine, really. He knows, because he talked to them about it when they sobered up, Taylor still cracking up like he still sort of found it hilarious and Ryan a little red-faced with embarrassment, that their agents are working on annulling it. Taylor doesn’t really want it public, not really, he admits, not meeting anyone’s eyes. (”But it should be,” he says, after that, and this time he looks at them, Ryan next to him, then Jordan over the phone, “Everyone should know I love you.”). 

So it’s–fine. Jordan has always known this. He can live with that. 

* * *

Ryan still has the ring. 

It’s stupid, he knows it is. They need to get it annulled for any number of reasons, and it’s not like it meant anything. Ryan barely even remembers it, just has a vague memory of seeing the chapel and having Taylor there with him and thinking that something felt right. Or maybe he’d made a joke and Taylor had made a joke and it had escalated because they tended to do that when left to themselves. 

It doesn’t really matter though, because clearly they need to get it annulled. 

“It’s not the right time,” Taylor says, less like he’s trying to convince Ryan and more like he’s trying to convince himself. “No one’s ready for it.” 

“We aren’t ready,” Ryan agrees. He’s not. Not to be the poster boy for…queer polyamory in the NHL, and definitely not to be married. He loves them both, but he’s not ready for that. 

Jordan grunts, but he doesn’t say anything. They’re doing a three-way call today, because it’s summer so Jordan’s home in Regina and Taylor’s in Kingston and Ryan’s home in BC, just to really get the full spread of the country. Ryan’s not sure what he hates most, when they’re all spread out like this, three points on a triangle, or when the two of them are together in New York and he’s not. There’s a comfort to knowing they’re together, to seeing them leaning into each other as naturally as they did when they were 20, but somehow Ryan feels farther apart then too. 

“So it’s for the best,” Taylor says. A statement. Like he makes sometimes, so sure. 

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees. Jordan still doesn’t say anything. “We were drunk, anyway,” he goes on. “We can’t be the first NHLers who got drunk married in Vegas.” 

“Oh, who would you say has?” Taylor picks up on it, his eyes lighting up and leaning in. “What about Bennie and Segs, they’re basically married already and Segs is stupid enough to do that.” 

“You did that, I don’t think you can call anyone stupid for it,” Jordan points out. Ryan finds himself smiling just to hear his voice again. 

Taylor rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but I married Ryan, so it wasn’t as stupid,” he explains, and Ryan can’t help his smile at that, either. “C’mon, Ebs. Keep up.” 

“Yeah, for sure.” Jordan looks over his screen at–something–then back at them. “My mom’s calling, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you guys later.” 

“Ebs don’t leave us,” Taylor whines, and Ryan makes his best pouting face too. 

Jordan’s smile flickers. “Sorry,” He says, and sounds like he means it. “Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Ryan echoes, and Taylor says it too before Jordan hangs up. 

“Is he okay?” Ryan asks. It’s not–Jordan would ditch them to go help his mom, he is that kind of combination of mama’s boy and also Good Canadian Boy and also Responsible Person who would do that, but…

“We’ll both be in New York for some media stuff soon,” Taylor says, though he’s got a look on his face like he agrees with Ryan. “I can ask him then.” 

Sometimes Ryan hates the whole Tristate area. Resents it for taking Jordan and Taylor away from him. For letting them be there and him be across a country. 

“I’ll check in too,” he agrees, and Taylor grins at him before hanging up too.

* * *

(This is what Ryan doesn’t want to think about, but does every time he sees the ring– being very drunk in a Vegas casino, an arm around Taylor and both of them yelling into the phone at Ebs, and wishing wanting needing this to be more. To have them with him, not a continent away, ready to be pulled apart. Seeing the chapel, and Taylor’s joke, and thinking –that’s something to have, three thousand miles away).

* * *

They get the marriages annulled with very little fuss, and no one is ever the wiser. Well, that’s not true–Taylor maybe tells the story to a few guys because he thinks it’s pretty hilarious, all things considered; of course he’d end up married in Vegas. Everyone else seems to agree. 

“This is why they need you, eh?” Taylor’s dad had said, rolling his eyes at Jordan. Jordan smiled, rolled his eyes back and leaned into Taylor when he threw an arm around him, but didn’t say anything. He’d been doing that a lot, recently–not saying anything. It’s not like Jordan was usually the biggest talker, but he was generally more talkative than this. 

It had been happening for a while, Taylor had been noticing. It wasn’t like Jordan wasn’t there, wasn’t on the phone or in their chat or sending memes or giving them shit, but–it felt different. Off. Taylor hadn’t been his best friend for so long, his boyfriend for almost two years, not to notice when something was Up with Ebs. 

Taylor does what he always does to fix shit like that–he tries to be extra loud and enthusiastic at Jordan, to urge him out of his mood mainly by doing stupid shit and waiting for Jordan to make fun of him for it. It's hard to do, from far away–they have time to meet up later in the off season, but even in the off season they all have commitments and training–but Taylor tries. 

And, of course, he talks to Ryan about it, because if something wrong with their boyfriend they need to strategize about. (And, maybe–Taylor wants to make sure it’s not just him. That this isn’t Jordan drifting away too). 

But Ryan doesn’t have any ideas. “Maybe it’s just the season?” he says, even though they both know it’s not right. “Getting swept can’t be fun.” 

“At least he made it,” Taylor counters, only a little bitter. Well. Only a little bitter at Jordan. “And he talks to us about hockey shit. I know when Jordan’s fucked up by hockey shit.” 

Ryan shakes his head, not like he’s denying it, just like he doesn’t have any other ideas. “He’ll tell us when he’s ready?” Ryan suggests, not quite sounding like he believes it. Jordan believes in communication, until sometimes he remembers he is also a dumbass jock in his twenties and forgets to communicate. 

“But—” 

“Hallsy,” Ryan says, a little sharp, and Taylor gets it, okay? He knows that sometimes he pushes too hard and fast for the other two, that sometimes they like to think about things for a second, but–

“I want to help now,” he mutters, and Ryan smiles, wry but fond. 

“I’m sure he knows that.” 

“He better,” Taylor says, darkly. 

“And we’ll keep an eye on him,” Ryan goes on. “It’ll be a lot harder for him to avoid it when we’re all together.” 

Taylor smiles just to think of it–of them finally back together, for a solid three weeks, just the three of them and all the training they have to do. And training’s made a lot better by getting to ogle Ryan and Jordan and be ogled in return.

Yeah. It’ll get better by then. If Jordan doesn’t work through it on his own first.

* * *

Jordan doesn’t think he’s being paranoid, but he knows Ryan and Taylor are acting…off. They’re talking together more, not just to him, and obviously they all should have their own conversations or whatever but sometimes it feels like they’re keeping it a secret from him, which is…new. They’ll stop talking and just look at him, guilt on Taylor’s face because he’s shitty at lying, when Jordan joins the conversation. It’s weird. 

Jordan tries not to notice it, he does. Like he tries not to think about the marriage, or about how he saw in the background of a call that Ryan still has the ring sitting on his dresser, or about–any of that. It’s the off-season, and it’s always more busy than he remembers but he can finally see family and friends and then, the magic three weeks at Taylor’s parent’s lake house. 

It’s easier and harder, up there, in person. Easier because everything’s easier with Ryan and Taylor around, because Taylor wanders in as Jordan’s cooking and wraps himself around Jordan’s back and kisses at his neck as he tries to convince Jordan to let him try some early, because Jordan will come downstairs in then morning to find Ryan on the porch in the morning light and sit next to him and lean in, easy, and Ryan will silently offer his coffee for Jordan to steal, because the sex is as good as it ever was, so much better in person, because Jordan falls asleep with Taylor’s soft snores in his ear and Ryan’s arm flung over his chest. Jordan never has to remember that he loves them, why he loves them, because it’s something in his bones, not something he forgets, but it’s easier to remember how good they are, when they’re together. 

But harder, because it’s harder to ignore that sometimes Ryan and Taylor glance at him, then at each other, and there’s meaning in the look Jordan can’t interpret. To not see how sometimes Taylor starts to play with Ryan’s fingers, like he’s looking for the ring there. It’s not–he’s not jealous, not when he loves them both so much, when he loves to see them happy together so much. But it’s a reminder, always. 

And it doesn’t help that Hallsy keeps making jokes about it. 

“As a married man,” he’ll throw into an argument, smirking, or, 

“Whatever happened to ‘in sickness and in health’?” he whines, when Ryan refuses to indulge him and get him another gatorade when he claims he’s too sore to move (”I don’t remember vowing that,” Ryan retorts, and grabs Jordan’s arm when he goes to get it to shut Taylor up, “No, don’t set bad habits.”), or 

“Hey, it’s our marriage-guy!” when a picture of Gretzky flashes on the TV screen, “Do you think we should send him a fruit basket or something?”

(Ryan chuckles. Jordan bites at his lip. “You do know it’s called a officiant, right?” Ryan asks, and Taylor punches him. 

“I think I was clear,” Taylor retorts, and looks at Jordan. “Right? Marriage-guy is totally acceptable.” 

“I’m gonna go–call home,” Jordan decides, and gets up, shaking off the hand Ryan puts on his arm, like a question.), until, 

“No, it’s mine!” Taylor argues, holding the fries he’d just stolen from Ryan above his head and trying to fend off Ryan with the other hand, as Jordan choked on his own water in laughter. “Half of what’s yours, right? Split right down the middle.” 

“Fuck that, I want a pre-nup,” Ryan retorts, still half-climbing on top of Taylor to go for it. Jordan’s stopped laughing. 

“Too late, it’s done. Halfsies for life,” Taylor replies, laughing, and Jordan just–

“We get it, you were married,” he snaps. 

Two faces turn to him, confusion in both of them. “Ebs?” Ryan asks, confused and gentle, and then they _look _at each other again, like there’s something happening that Jordan can’t be a part of, that they’re keeping Jordan out of, and–

He shoves his chair back. “I’m done,” he announces, despite his mostly full plate, and walks away.

* * *

“Jordan?” Taylor asks, knocking on the door to their bedroom. It’s pretty clearly where Jordan is; the house isn’t that big and a locked door is pretty obvious. “Ebs?” 

“He didn’t mean–he’s not really done, right?” Ryan asks, biting on his lip. He looks about as terrified of that as Taylor feels. “Not–with us?” 

“No,” Taylor says. He wouldn’t say it’s more certainly than he feels, but–Ryan needs him to be sure now, so he can be. Jordan can’t–he wouldn’t just–

But Jordan’s been acting weird, and it’s not like him to just walk away like that; Jordan’s usually more confrontational than that. 

Taylor knocks again. “C’mon Ebs, can we talk? Whatever’s wrong, we can talk about it.” 

There’s a beat, then the door opens, and Jordan’s there. He’s a little flushed, and he won’t meet either of their eyes, but he steps back to let them in, at least, before he sits back down on the bed. Taylor’d like to sit on the bed too, but that feels–is that pushy? He thinks it might be. Taylor wants to kiss Jordan until he shuts up about whatever that was, and then watch Jordan kiss Ryan until Ryan stops looking so pale, and then he’ll kiss Ryan for a while too, just to even things out. But–this doesn’t seem like the time. 

He doesn’t know what it is the time for, though. He’s still trying to figure out what to say when Ryan says, sharp like a bullet through the room, 

“Are you done with us?” Taylor chokes. Jordan looks up, his eyes very wide. Ryan’s voice is steady, but his hands are clenched into fists and he’s so, so pale. “Is that what you meant? That you’re done with this relationship?”

“We can figure it out if it is, we’ll talk–” Taylor starts, but then Jordan shakes his head. 

“Are you?” he asks, his voice quiet, rough. He looks down at his hands again. 

“Why would I be?” Ryan asks, honestly surprised. He glances at Taylor; Taylor shrugs. He doesn’t get it either. 

“Not–both of you.” Jordan takes a long breath. “If you’re going to break up with me, I don’t–I won’t begrudge you guys, I know you’ll make each other happy, but you should do it now, it’ll be–” 

“What the actual fuck?” Taylor demands, and fuck not being pushy. He drops down onto the bed next to Jordan, so he can kick at his shin for saying something like that. 

Jordan swallows. “I said–” 

“I heard what you _said_,” Taylor spits out the last word. “But what the fuck?” 

“Where’s that even coming from?” Ryan asks, sharp. His arms are crossed, and he’s looking at Ebs like he’s a particularly tricky D-man standing between him and the goal. “Why would you–” 

“I get it, I said,” Jordan keeps going. For all Taylor’s kicking at him, he’s not looking away from his lap. “I know, like–you guys get each other, and you definitely liked each other first, I just got–added on–and I’m good but I’m not like you guys, and you–” 

“Shut up,” Taylor interrupts. He doesn’t want to hear any of this. How long has Jordan been thinking this? 

Jordan shrugs. “It’s true, though.” 

“Okay, putting aside that it’s not–” 

“Yeah, in what world was I into Nuge first?” Taylor asks, because he has some very vivid memories of that first year in Edmonton and some incriminating fantasies he has never told anyone about because that way comes chirping. “No offense, Ryan.” 

“None taken.” Ryan’s still looking at Jordan. “Why now? Have you always been just what, waiting for this?” 

“I mean, I guess I always knew it, but…” 

“But what?” Taylor demands when Jordan trails off. 

“But you got married!” Jordan looks up, suddenly. His face is set in a way that reminds Taylor of when he was traded. “I think that’s a pretty clear declaration of who’s important, don’t you? And you–you didn’t even want to get it annulled,” Jordan throws at Taylor. “And you still have the ring anyway,” he goes on, to Ryan. “So I can figure out what that means.” 

“We were drunk,” Taylor says, into the quiet that follows. “Really really drunk.” 

Jordan snorts, no humor in it. “When have you ever done something you didn’t actually want to do when you were drunk?” He looks back down at his hands. 

“I–” 

“You’re right,” Ryan says, suddenly, and Taylor jerks to look at Ryan, as he drops to his knees in front of them, one hand on Taylor’s thigh and one on Jordan’s hands, in his lap. “I did want to, and I do still have the ring. I just…” he shakes his head. “It sucks, during the season. You guys are close to each other when you’re home, at least, but I’m so far away, and I–I think I wanted something to hold onto. To remind myself you’re there.” Taylor gapes. He’d never known–he knew long distance sucked, but he’d never known it had gotten to Ryan like that. 

“But,” Ryan goes on, his hands closing around Jordan’s, “If you don’t think it was about both of you, then you’re stupider than Hallsy.” 

“Hey!” 

Ryan ignores him. “I don’t remember all of that night, but I do–we had to circle back, remember?” he asks Taylor. “Because you needed to get get Jordan’s shirt to put on.” 

“And you needed his hat,” Taylor agrees. He does remember that. “To make sure he was there too.” 

“I wasn’t, though.” 

“Yeah, well, next time don’t make playoffs and you will be,” Taylor retorts. He moves closer, so he can put an arm around Jordan’s shoulders. Jordan’s still tense, but he’s not trying to get away or anything. 

“I don’t think polyamorous marriage is legal in Nevada,” Jordan says, and Taylor rolls his eyes as Ryan snorts. 

“That’s their problem, not ours.” He takes a breath, then adds, “And, like, I did know I had to get it annulled. I just liked the idea of everyone knowing what you meant to me. It’d make it feel more…real.” 

“You think we aren’t real?” Ryan asks, looking up at Taylor. He can feel Jordan’s gaze on him too. 

“No, obviously, this is–the most real thing, but…I dunno.” Taylor shrugs. This is outside of his capabilities. “Long distance sucks.” 

“Amen,” Jordan says, and Ryan hums his agreement. 

“But,” Taylor goes on, “All of that shit you were thinking is just–don’t.” 

“Yeah.” Jordan licks at his lips. “I know, sometimes it just gets…” He trails off, but Ryan nods, and, yeah. Clearly they all get it. 

“Do you need us to prove it?” Taylor asks, though. “What do you want? I’ll marry you too, if you want.” He pauses a beat, then, “Actually, we could probably do that, there’s got to be cheap flights to Vegas, right? Or like, someone here must be ordained–” 

“Why do you get to marry Ebs?” Ryan asks, smacking Taylor on the thigh in a way that sends confusing messages to Taylor’s dick. 

“I called dibs.” 

“You can’t just dibs that, I’m the one who came up with the marriage thing, I think I should get to marry him.” 

“Why should that–” 

“No one is marrying anyone else,” Jordan cuts in, but he’s laughing, that gap-toothed grin bright in a way that’s burned in Taylor since he was a teenager. “It’s a miracle no one’s found out what happened to you two, we are not risking that.” 

“Fine,” Taylor sighs, overdramatic. 

“I think actually that no one finding out is proof we could do it again without anyone finding out,” Ryan argues, and Jordan snorts, shaking his head. 

“You can prove it to me another way,” Jordan tells him, and leans down to meet Ryan’s kiss halfway. Taylor watches, savoring the warmth and heat that always comes from looking at the two of them, until they break apart, and stay for a second so close, like they’re sharing the same breath. 

It’s very hot, and cute, and Taylor likes it a lot, but, “My turn,” he announces, and turns Jordan’s face to him so he can kiss him too, trying to push into that kiss everything he’s so bad at saying–how much this matters, how much Jordan matters, that it’s the three of them together that’s so awesome. 

Then Ryan responds to one of their tugging on his hand, and he’s there too, and they all fall back onto the bed together.

* * *

It doesn’t get easier, exactly. Not as the season starts, and Ryan’s back on the other side of the continent, talking with Taylor and Jordan through screens; back as hockey takes over their life and finding a time all three of them can talk together gets harder and harder. 

But–it is easier, knowing that the long distance isn’t easy for anyone. That their shit and insecurities are out there. 

“I always told you communication is important,” Jordan says, sounding very smug, and ignoring Taylor’s scoff. 

“You didn’t communicate with us and convinced yourself we were going to dump you,” Ryan points out, and Jordan makes a face at the camera. In the background, Ryan can see his New York apartment, that odd combination of familiar from what he’d had in Edmonton and how much he sees over Skype and unfamiliar. Jordan looks easy, though, smiling at them again. 

“You know Ebs is a do as he says, not as he does, kind of guy,” Taylor puts in, and Jordan rolls his eyes at him too. 

“We should tell his new kids that,” Ryan muses. 

“You are not telling anyone anything, and I don’t have kids,” Jordan retorts, like he hadn’t just been talking about the new Islander rookies and how he’s settling them in. 

“Sure, you haven’t adopted them yet,” Ryan says. “Give it time.” Season’s still early, he means to say, but–

“Yeah, polyamorous marriage would have to be legal first,” Taylor says blithely, and Jordan’s face goes red. “I think my mom would kill me otherwise.” 

“Not necessarily,” Ryan replies. HIs heartbeat is loud in his ears. “We could just live in sin.” 

Taylor looks scandalized. “Do you want to disappoint my mother, Nuge?” he asks, incredulous. “Really?” 

“We’d have to wait until we’re all on the same coast,” Jordan puts in, grinning at them. Ryan gets–they all get–it’s a pipe dream still, far far away for any number of reasons. 

But the fondness in their eyes is real, even three thousand miles away, and Ryan doesn’t need a ring to remind him of that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Want to talk about it? Comment or come chat on tumblr at [ fanforthefics!](http://fanforthefics.tumblr.com/)


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